


The challenging Prince

by adler_kuro



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternative Universe - Turandot, Basically set in Puccini's opera, Damen is Calaf, Laurent is Turandot, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-02 07:04:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10212173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adler_kuro/pseuds/adler_kuro
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a young prince, beautiful and fair as the first snowflakes but cold and heartless like a crystal glass. He was the heir of a great kingdom but, due to an ancient rule, he could not take the throne until he got married because of his young age, so he decided to challenge his suitors: they had to answer to three riddles, death was punishment and his hand was the price. Princes and princesses came from all over the world but any of them failed, it had become a dare to them to defeat the cold prince. They didn't care about him, they cared about fame and power. But when Damen, ousted prince of Akielos, came to Arles he couldn't help to immediately fall in love with the cruel beauty of Laurent, so he challenged him: not for foolishness, not for glory but for love.





	1. Act One

The Regent, who had taken the throne after the untimely departure of the King and the Crown Prince, stood on top of the high flight of steps that leaded to the palace. In front of him, a crowded square was waiting for his words. A liveried pageboy was holding an edict before his eyes.  
“People of Vere! This is the law: Laurent, prince of Vere, will be the spouse of who, of royal blood, unfolds the three enigmas that he will ask for. But whoever faces the trial and is defeated, must bow to the axe his head!”  
The bombastic voice of the man reverberated while the crowd started to murmur about the new unfortunate suitor who tried in vain to solve the challenge of the algid prince. Like him, many others before had attempted and their heads had all gone to the dogs under the icy glare of the young man whose beauty was lethal.  
The ill-advised man of royal standing whom that day would have suffered that fate was the heir of the shah of Persia. He had come from so far away just the previous day and now the executioner already awaited him.  
The people writhed excitedly during the instants that separated them form the unique view of the prince, before his head rolled away on the stump. It was always a huge spectacle to see so many sovereigns and princesses push their fate for the hand of the only descendant of the late King Algeron and poorly fall for his contorted mind that gave birth to those riddles with the purpose of being impossibles.  
There, among the commoners, the dignitaries and the court, all in fibrillation for the new execution, a young man wandered, wrapped in a cloak to hide his refined clothes. He was trying to mingle to the mob that was huddling more and more now that the moon was about rising, but not many people would have not noticed the aitante brawny akielon who was slithering through the crowd.  
Suddenly, there was a help request. A woman, whose voice was quite frantic, was imploring “Mercy, please! Somebody helps me! My old man has fallen!” But the mob continued to shove undaunted.  
Only the foreigner turned to the cry and he saw a kneeling maiden next to an elderly man slumped to the ground, she was trying to shield him from the feet that menaced to stomp on them. He recognized something familiar in the man: the dark sink was typical of Akielos. He went to help them using his force to support the old man till they were out of the throng and he was able to be on his legs again.  
“Father!” exclaim the young man seeing the other’s face, “My father! You’re alive!”  
A vivid emotion of surprise raised in him: for long time he had believed the parent dead, killed by his brother, and he had mourned him; see him again alive was an immense joy.  
The old man struggled to open his eyes, blind for the cruelty of the men that is own son had sent, “My son!” he cried overwhelmed while a few tears flowed down his wrinkled cheeks.  
“My lord!” intervened the woman prostrating. She was crying too.  
“Hush!” whispered the akielon looking around circumspect, “After what has happened this is not our place!”  
But the man undaunted continued to hug his son and caress his cheeks, “I’ve looked for you, my son, I’ve looked for you after the attack and you wasn’t there! I believe you dead!”  
Even the young man started crying: find again his King and father was not something he had ever hoped.  
“I mourned you! I fought, father, but the palace was lost and I went into exile.”  
“My son! Lykaios, look at my son! He is alive! Damen…”  
“Silence again, padre!” hushed the prince of Akielos, “It’s no good here they know who we are.”  
The man nodded aware: Vere was behind the coup d’etat in Akielos even if it was initiated by prince Kastor, Damen’s half-brother; be recognized would have just leaded to death.  
“And who are you?” said Damen to the young woman who was still sustain the old King. It was pretty and fair, like one of the slaves he would have preferred.  
“I’m no one, Exalted. I’m just a slave,” answered the woman casting her eyes aside as it was required to the servants in Akielos.  
The King intervened “Lykaios has saved me during the riot, she guided me here and eased my pain.”  
Damen gentled glared the slave to thank her, “Why have you done all of this?” he asked curious.  
“Because you smiled at me once, my lord.”  
A remembrance happened in his mind: the image of a beautiful blond slave among his brother servant; he liked her, but after a few days Kastor usurped his throne and so he forgot her.  
“Thanks for your doings.”  
Around them, the people were thrilling: the mood had raised. Immediately everyone’s attention was on the high flight of steps of the royal palace of Vere where shortly the prince of Persia would have been introduced and the prince of ice would have come gracing him for the last farewell.  
“Executioner! Sharpen the blade!” shouted one, “The moon rise, prince!” yelled another.  
Suddenly, a drumroll introduced the opening of the palace’s gates and a young boy staggered on the top of the white steps. His eyes were void of life and his rich elaborated clothes were crumpled by the stay in the prisons.  
“The prince of Persia, Aimeric, has dared Laurent’s enigmas,” announced the Regent, “And by not knowing the answers he loses his head.” The man looked to the callow prince with something that resembled pity while his executioner came near with his immense axe.  
At the sight of a so young suitor the thirst of blood of the crowd was replaced by pity for his end.  
“Prince! Give him the Grace!” they shouted, “He’s too green to face death! Grace!”  
Damen, whose attention was immediately gone on the boy, felt like he should protest; he could not allow the slaughter of somebody whose eyes were still youthful and naive. Among all the voices, his one was powerful, the voice of a sovereign.  
“The Grace!” he shouted over the din, but the young prince was bent over the dirty stump.  
Nobody over the steps seemed to care about the crowd yelling “Have pity!” Damen had heard a lot about the cold heart of Prince Laurent, but he never had truly believed it till now. The boy’s white neck leaned on the stomp.  
“You’ll be damned, prince! You don't stop this murder! Cruel!” shouted Damen again, but the words broke on the lips when he saw the prince of Vere, who had appeared on the balcony, away from the commoners, away from the court, aways from the humans. The pale moonlight enlightened him as he was a mirage, a vision where his golden hair gleamed of a holy aura and the light blue garments were transfigured in ethereal veils; he scanned the kingdom under him from his bright eyes, dominator and imperious. He needed just a hand on the balcony’s stone to gain silence, an icy glare to the crowd and everyone bowed to him.  
On their feet, just the executioner with his axe, the Regent with his annoyed frown and Damen, the only one among the mob that had not bowed, too enchanted by the unattainable beauty of the young man appeared to him like a dream.  
The prince of ice eyed the irreverent foreigner with contempt, then he raised a hand and commanded to the executioner to do his job.  
At the blow of the blade on the wood, Damen recovered from the charming dazzle, right in time to see the headless body of little prince Aimeric slide aside and hit the soundly ground, while the brown head rolled down the steps. The crowd yelped.  
As soon as Damen looked up again on the balcony, Laurent was gone. It would have seemed just an imagination, a miraculous hallucination, but something in him was left when those eyes had found him among the host of bowed heads.  
“Laurent” he sighed savoring that name like the most delicious of the ambrosias.  
The people started to go away, the Regent and his court were long retired, just a few people remained to clean the white slabs from the boy’s blood and on the top, over the steps stage of death, now it was visible a big golden gong that shined of the white moonlight. To have prince Laurent it was requested to ring it three times, they said.  
He was pervaded by an urgent need. He started to move toward, ma he felt hands around his arms.  
“My lord, where are you going?” asked humbly Lykaios.  
“My son, where?” repeated his father wrapping his arm with his old shaking hands, those hands that once had leaded army and won battles.  
Still dreamy, Damen answered “To prince Laurent.”  
“But it’s insane!” cried Lykaios bringing her hands to cover the mouth.  
“Does he want to go, Lykaios?” asked the old King “Do you want to left me, son?”  
Damen smile softly to the elderly man.  
“I go to my love, father,” he explained.  
“You have seen him just once!” The old man tried to make him come to his senses “You have seen him beheading a boy!”  
“But father, he looked at me!” Damen, who had eyes only for the gong, slipped from his grip.  
The man cried “No! Mad man! You’re going to die!”  
“Laurent…” just said the prince while he climbed the white steps.  
“Do you want to inflict me other pain? Son, do you want to leave me to beg?” protested the old man with the purpose of stop him; “Lord, you hurt my heart if you ring that gong!” tried the slave, but Damen did not stop until he reached the door of the palace.  
“He’s out of himself, ” murmured the King to the slave who was sustaining him with tears in her eyes, “He is lost, the treason of his brother has made him insane…”  
Damen began to reach for the mace when an alarmed voice stopped him.  
“What are your intentions?” asked a man blocking him from reaching for the gong, he was one of the high rank soldiers who assisted to the execution.  
“I want to get my spouse!” declared prideful Damen, “Let me pass,” ordered.  
“What’s happening here, Jord?” A secondo voice added and a good dressed foreign man came.  
“This fool wants to die, Nikandros.”  
The man spoke to the prince whose cloak during the impetus of climbing had slipped revealing the noble garments. Damen recognized that face, but he glared at him to admonish from giving signs of knowing him.  
Nikandros was his most dearest friend before Kastor disavowed his loyalty to his people and to his King; he was sent as ambassador to Vere a few years ago, but Damen had not expected to find him alive after the violent rise of his brother. A sense of happiness pervaded the prince: with Nikandros his father and the slave were in good hands. Now there was nothing that stopped him from ringing three times the instrument.  
Nikandros gave away just a glad look towards his safe and sound prince, but a shadow of perturbation darkened his eyes.  
“Listen, prince,” he admonished strictly, “Laurent has no pity. Go away before you can fool yourself.”  
“Let me through!” repeated vigorously Damen. His friend could never understand.  
“Prince, he’s just a man! Not different from you! It’s not worthy to lose the head for someone like him!”  
Jord added “He may appear like a jade sculpture, but he’s cold and sharp as the blade of the axe upon your neck if you’ll dare him!”  
“Enough deaths of foolish foreigners, go far away and forget him!”  
Damen shook his head at those words; they could not make him rethinking.  
A window, high in the palace, opened suddenly. “Hush! The prince is sleeping!” warned a woman, who closed the glass immediately after. It was a sufficient distraction for the two men so that Damen could make it to the mace.  
“Don’t do it!” cried the men before the prince rang one, two, three times with feverish crescent force.  
“Prince Laurent!” called ecstatic.  
“He is lost,” murmured the dignitaries while the King and the slave were supporting each other in ache at that damned sound.


	2. Act Two

The night went quiet while the amorous turmoil increased inside the young heart of the man that the courtiers began to call Unknown Prince. The word of a new suitor went fast, rich bedchambers were prepared for him and his gaunt retinue; even the Regent had had news and the court was ready again for the mortal humiliation.  
Damen was not able to sleep that night, the think of the trial and of the man for who he was doing it made him both tense and enthusiast. It was at the first lights of dawn that he pulled out his sword and left the bed to go in the training courtyard. He left his worries fell over a straw and wood target, where his sword sinked and teared with the force and the precision of the best of warriors. A rustle of clothes caught him behind while he panted to regain breath after a particular strenuous blow sequence. He turned toward and he was dazzled by the unexpected sight of Laurent.  
“My prince,” he greeted bowing his head. In the courtyard there were only the two of them, it was too early in the morning for the soldiers’ trainings, and Damen was somehow ashamed of being covered by sweat at the presence of a so magnificent son of the sky.  
The algid young man studied for long time before speak.  
“You must be stupid,” he commented, “More stupid than anyone before you.”  
Damen did not feel offended, “I simply desired to prove myself worthy of your hand, prince.”  
Laurent shrugged clutching in his shawl, “You are rather impertinent.”  
“As your guest, I beg for pardon if I have offended you,” apologized Damen while the other started to walk in circle around him like a rapacious bird on his prey.  
“Guest…” scoffed Laurent, “You’ll be guest of the cemetery longer.”  
“That only if I cannot solve your enigmas.”  
“Nobody can,” replied convinted Laurent. No one had ever dared to speak like that to him; he was used to reverence, not insubordination.  
“Nobody was me. Nobody has had faith in his heart and love in his soul.”  
The prince’s pink lips twisted in a mocking smile while he spoke venomous “We shall see soon where your amorous fate will lead you, unknown foreign prince.”  
Damen did not waver at the death promise and Laurent, indignant, went back inside.  
A few hours later, the prince stood in front of the court waiting his trial, confident that he would be able to win the heart of the young man as well as his hand.  
The Regent sat on the throne and he was looking pitifully at him, as the rest of the court, where there were his father and Lykaios; pitiful were also the expressions of the dignitaries, like Nikandros, his reunited friend, and Jord that again advised against his judgment.  
Damen knew that with Nikandros he should have planned his come back at Akielos, that the fight for his throne would have been harsh, but he felt that with Laurent beside him every kind of outcome would have been sweet. Before having the regal crown upon his head, he wanted his delicate jewel.  
A council made of old wises was around them; the eldest of them was holding three scrolls: the solutions to the riddles.  
Met by fanfares, Laurent and his little retinue appeared.  
The cold prince stood at the top of the short flight of steps which separated the throne from the rest of the room.  
“People of Vere! This is the law: Laurent, prince of Vere, will be the spouse of who, of royal blood, unfolds the three enigmas that he will ask for. But whoever faces the trial and is defeated, must bow to the axe his head!” spoke the Regent, reciting again the edict. Then he told Damen “Foreign prince, you know your fate if you’ll make mistakes.”  
“I do.”  
The firm security of the answer gave no room to further delays, the Regent gave a nod to his nephew who was thrilled to speak.  
“Do you want to challenge the fate, foreigner? The riddles are three, death is one,” hissed Laurent.  
“No, no, my prince! The riddles are three, life is one!” corrected Damen in gentle impetus.  
Laurent gnashed scarcely his teeth, “That’s it!” he announced solemn, “Listen, prince: In the gloomy night an iridescent phantom flies. It flies over the infinitely black humanity. Everyone invokes it, everyone implores it, but the phantom disappears at dawn to be reborn in the heart! And every night it’s born and every day it dies!”  
Damen smiled glad, “Prince Laurent, it’s reborn in the heart and even in me! Hope!” he answered sure. An astonished murmur started in the room while the wises opened the first scroll and exclaimed flabbergasted “Hope! Hope!”  
Laurent smiled coldly at the correct answer and he commented caustic “Yes, hope that always is a delusion…” He climbed down till he was in the middle of the flight of steps; he was showing off his handsome haughty face with the purpose to charm the Unknown Prince.  
“It flickers like flame, but it is not. Sometimes it rages, it’s feverish, impetuous, burning! Idleness changes it to languor. If you’re defeated or lost, it grows cold. If you dream of winning, if flames. Its voice is faint, but you listen; it gleams as bright as the sunset!”  
Damen looked in the eyes the young man that was staring in the distance, he did not let himself discouraged by the tortuous dizzy words, “Yes, it flames and languishes in my veins, prince. Blood!”  
There were surprised cries all around when the wises confirmed his answer.  
Laurent was furious; he climbed down impetuously and marched until he was towering over his suitor who had kneeled to him in adoration. He crouched on him making his sweet lips very near the other’s ones, “Ice that sets you on fire and from your fire is more frosty! White and dark! If he sets you free, he makes you a slave! If he accepts you as a slave, he makes you a King!” he growled.  
When Damen did not answer, devoid even of breath, the algid prince smirked with cruel satisfaction, “Do you not answer, foreigner? You look pale, do you fear the axe on your neck? Well then, what’s that give you fire?”  
In difficulty, Damen casted his eyes aside and gasped searching a solution. The crowd was holding back the breath.  
Suddenly, a word manifested to the prince, “Laurent!” he exclaimed jumping on his feet exulting, “You gave me victory, my prince! Laurent!”  
Laurent’s eyes widened and his mouth swung open. While the wise announced “Yes, ‘Laurent’ is the right one!”, the icy prince backed panicking and shattered.  
“Uncle!” he begged, “Uncle, don’t leave me to him!”  
But the men, who was caressing his beard, hided his malevolent grin under his hand, “It’s a holy oath, Laurent.”  
“No… No!” repeated the prince desperate, “Foreigner!” he admonished his future husband as last try, “Do you want to have me like this? Full of hatred and disdain for you? Is it like this that you desire your husband? Devoid of pride and sell as a slave!”  
Among the court, someone began to yell to the prince to grant victory, nobody loved who did not know how to lose; someone was laughing: the game had backfired his creator.  
Damen did not like the mockery towards prince Laurent; he did not have any intention to humiliate nor to oblige him to a marriage against his will. He desired a devoted and enamored spouse, not just a cold bed companion.  
He raised a hand and gained silence from the audience.  
“Prince Laurent,” he called, “No, I don’t want a humiliated spouse. And to demonstrate that I throw my victory at your feet. I free you from the oath, do you want it?”  
Laurent leaned suspiciously towards him, the face pale and attentive.  
Do you love enigmas, don’t you? I’ll give you one,” continued Damen declaring solemnly “You don’t know my name. Tell me my name before dawn and at dawn I’ll die.”  
The crowd protested and murmured; the Regent raised from the seat, he looked outraged.  
“Incautious prince! Your good heart will lead you to your death with my nephew! Don’t throw away your win like that! Marry him as the oath sanctions!”  
“I accept!” announced Laurent before someone else could add another word.  
Damen smiled. He would have wait till the dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go with second act! Hope you've liked it!   
> Let me know your opinions or again if there are some mistakes. Thanks!


	3. Act Three

“His Royal Highness Prince Laurent orders: none shall sleep tonight! The foreign’s name must be revealed!” cried the heralds through the streets while the moon raised upon the city of Arles.  
Damen was watching the roads glow of torches and he heard the sound of soldiers that knocked to every house dragging and beating everyone who was suspected to know his name. He had figured that Laurent would have gone so far for winning, but he was confident that soon the prince’s pride would have been cast aside when finally he would have been in his arms.  
The infamous glory of Prince of Ice would have been affected, but the dignity would have remained untouched: feeling love would have elevated his already perfect soul and the reverences at his feet would have been made with a smile instead of for fear.  
Damen was sure of his victory, no one in the kingdom knew his name; he was waiting the dawn asleep as the prince commanded: no one must sleep.  
Rapid punches shook the wood of his door, Nikandros peeped.  
“Your lust will torture us all!” he reprove as he pushed inside the room three blond girls barely covered by veils, “If you’re just looking for someone for your bed, take one or all of them and go away!”  
Damen looked weirded the three women, “No, no! None of them! Only Laurent!”  
Jord came in, “Then what do you want! Lands, treasures? Anything! We will give you anything! Just tell us your name and go far away from here so Laurent’s glory will be untouched and your life too!”  
“The Cruel is just waiting other runarounds to apply himself, you’re torturing all the city!”  
Damen shook his head, “Ah sun, rise with haste!” murmured walking away from the dignitaries.  
Nikandros was trying to save him from what he believed were famished jaws when they were just sweet soft lips awaiting his touch.  
A soldier ran towards them and he informed franticly the ambassador and the capitan that they had found a person who knew the name. The prince gulped.  
“Who are them! Speak quickly!” he commanded wroth.  
The soldier murmured “The slave that was with you, Highness.”  
“Lykaios…” whispered Damen worried and he ran to her and his father’s chambers.  
Here, he found his father crouched on the figure of the young woman, crying the body of a servant as the one of a princess; the hilt of a dagger came out from her chest; Laurent was motionless standing and staring at them without any expression.  
“What’s happened?” asked the prince.  
Gasping, the algid Laurent gave the answer, “She knew the name, she swore her love to you and she killed herself because she didn’t want to betray you.”  
“Little Lykaios…” murmured Damen crouching on his father who was clutching the corpse of the last companion.  
The dignitaries worked on the disposal of the body and they took care of the old man while they left alone Laurent and Damen.  
The prince was still motionless.  
“Can I dare to ask you for a walk?” asked Damen daring to touch his arm.  
Laurent gave him a mysterious excruciated look and he left; the foreign prince followed him: he didn’t said no.  
They walked till the gardens enlightened by moonlight, they strolled in silence alongside the pruned trees and the waving ponds where colored carps were swimming. The sky was still dark, but the daylight would come soon.  
“Are you happy?” asked Damen, he was observing the fishes waving their fins.  
“What kind of question is it?” blurted Laurent offended.  
“You show yourself as cruel and heartless, but it’s not like this. You do have suffered for the shed blood tonight.”  
The prince turned his head hiding his face from the eyes that looked at him pure and charmed.  
“It’s not in your interest laughing at me, Unknown Prince. I have killed for much less than boldness,” said Laurent harshly. Then, a sigh left his lips, “Time ago, my brother went to war and he came back on his shield. A foreigner had killed him. Nobody knows who he was and I swore that I could never lie with one of them, neither if they were princes or princesses, in memory of my late brother, Auguste.”  
Damen smiled saddened by the tale. He remembered the war, he remembered that the heir to the throne of Vere was killed by his men.  
“I understand your hatred, but I cannot approve it.” He was thinking about Kastor sat on his throne, “Revenge doesn’t lead neither to wisdom or comfort, just pain.”  
“How do you know!” blurted Laurent hugging himself. A little cold wind was blowing that night and it was able to make shudder even the Icy Prince.  
Damen gave him his cloak, but Laurent just stared blankly at him instead of taking the offer.  
“You’re different from your peers, foreign.”  
The Unknown Prince smiled, “In what, if it’s my right to ask?”  
“Asking is always right, answering is never convenient,” replied Laurent, “In you I see the nature of a hero,” he confessed.  
Damen placed the cloak on his shoulders and he girded his waist, “Laurent,” he whispered before sweetly taking his lips. The young prince answered eagerly to the kiss, but suddenly he pushed him away like he burnt.  
“What have you done of me!” exclaimed Laurent shocked of the contrast in his sentiments.  
“Let you be loved!”  
“No, Love has leaded your slave to her death! I don’t want to end like her!”  
Damen wrapped him in his arms gently shoving one of his blond locks away, “Laurent,” he said again tenderly.  
The young man sighed letting his fingers wandering on his future husband’s cheek.  
The dark of the night was starting to fade.  
“I don’t know your name,” he murmured disheartened, “I don’t know your name and it is dawn! What a miserable end that you make me do! Devoid of pride and without glory!”  
“Glory is in the kiss you give me, Pride is in my love for you.”  
Laurent shoved him aside clutching in the warm cloak, too big for his stature, “I have despise everybody else, their death weights nothing on my conscience. I feared only you, you who hasn’t bowed to me like anyone else. Your death would have been both a pleasure and an immense pain. But now the times were princes and princesses died for my hand are lost. You reveal my enigmas and my heart. Take delight from your victory.”  
“There’s nothing I desire to enjoy more than you, my prince. But I don’t want take pleasure from something you might hate. I offer you my name and my life and, if you’ll want, you can lose me forever because dawn has not set yet. I’m Damianos of Akielos, son of Theomedes.”  
Laurent stared at him with his mouth swung open, “That Damianos? That one everybody believes dead?”  
Damen nodded.  
“My uncle had planned to put your bastard brother on the throne. I’ve never approved,” said the young man still shocked by the revelation.  
“I heard a similar story, so I haven’t said my name before,” replied the prince.  
“You gave me victory,” realized Laurent. Not so far, fanfares were announcing the end of the night. Around the palace, a lot of people were waiting for the outcome of their prince’s trial.  
“I gave you my life,” smiled softly Damen while he caressed one of his pale cheeks.  
“I know your name and sun has set.”  
“Death is sweet for your desire.”  
“Ah, Damianos!”  
The Prince of Ice let fall the cloak on the grass and he dragged Damen by wrist until they appeared on the white steps in front of the palace. Everybody was waiting for the two of them.  
Laurent stepped on the first one, the Regent gave a twisted smirk to the foreign prince. Apparently nobody believed Laurent could lose the challenge and his glory. Nikandros shook his head disapproving that end for his sovereign.  
“I know the foreigner’s name,” announced Laurent while the crowd held the breath, “His name is… Love!”  
The crowd exulted triumphantly.  
Damen smiled glad at those words and happily ran to his spouse.  
“Laurent, my love…” murmured on his lips before the prince kissed him.  
People started to sing hymns of glory to his sovereigns, Nikandros and Jord shook their head, reassured, and the old King Theomedes smiled glad to welcome a new son; while the Regent, livid with rage, was rethinking apprehensively to his plans: Damianos and Laurent, the two royal spouses, smiling and enamored, jointed would have rewritten their countries’ history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end!  
> I had a really good time writing this.  
> As always let me know if you've enjoyed it or if there are some mistakes!  
> Thanks to you all!

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, guys. That's it.  
> My first fan fiction published all in english.  
> I'm sorry for my mistakes, but unfortunately english is not my native language, let me know if there are any.  
> Also let me know if you've enjoyed the story! Thanks to you all!


End file.
